


blood prince

by BananasofThorns



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Blood God Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Curses, Enderman-Ghast Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hallucinations, Hearing Voices, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Minecraft Mechanics, Not Canon Compliant, Platonic Relationships, Ranboo Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns
Summary: "Dream was right, you know," Quackity says with a smile as sweet as honey and as sharp as a razor. "I read your book.”He reaches out and taps the book against Ranboo’s chest. Ranboo shudders, lashing out with his claws before he can stop himself. Quackity stumbles away, eyes wide; his surprise quickly gives way to anger as blood blossoms from the scratches on his arm. Fundy’s tail lashes. In the crowd, metal flashes as weapons are drawn.Blood for the Blood Prince,the endermen murmur, victorious.Blood for the Blood Prince. Blood for the Blood Prince. Make him regret it.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 93
Kudos: 927
Collections: Ranboo Is Best Boi, stories from the pantheon





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> when I tell y'all I have no idea what I'm doing,
> 
> jk but only a little lmao. I wrote like 3000 words for this last night and then decided I was going to make it into an actual fic. and then earlier today I realized, oh shit, I need an actual plot. so we'll see where this goes! I'm excited, though, so hopefully I don't loose inspiration or motivation for this AU bc I like my vague plans for it
> 
> anyway. enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this started as me going "hey what if endermen gathered around Ranboo when he was angry" and then it, uh. spiralled. I'm not complaining, though

Ranboo can still hear Dream’s voice echoing in his ears, proclaiming him a traitor; the false book burns a smile-shaped brand into his skin where it’s holstered on his belt.

Niki waves a hand through the air, gesturing to him with fiery eyes. “You are just pretending to be on our side!” she snaps, glaring up at him, and he bites down an instinctual scream as their eyes meet.

“I’m not pretending, I’ve never pretended to be on anyone’s side! I don’t _care!”_ he shouts; the words rip themselves from his chest.

He pushes down the satisfaction that rises when the crowd goes silent. An enderman teleports behind him, whispering something too quiet for him to understand, but he barely notices it in his irritation. Everyone is looking at him, now.

“Okay? I don’t care,” he repeats. “You guys keep on choosing sides; you guys keep on choosing L’manberg or Dream’s SMP. Why don’t you choose people? Why don’t you care about _people?!”_

“What about Tubbo?” Niki yells back. “I thought you trust him, I thought you were friends with Tubbo and then you go and talk to Technoblade and Tommy?”

Ranboo looks away, to where Tubbo and Quackity are speaking. His memory book is clutched tightly in Quackity’s hands. 

The man looks over and meets his eyes, something dark in his expression. Ranboo shudders. Two more endermen teleport to his sides, flanking. Like the first, they whisper, but all he can make out is _prince._ He shakes his head and drags himself out of his thoughts.

“I do trust Tubbo! But I trust them, too! Why can’t I trust people on opposite sides? Why can’t—”

“That’s called being a traitor,” Puffy interrupts; he jerks his head to stare at her and she meets his eyes unflinchingly.

“It’s not! Tommy was Tubbo’s best friend before Dream made Tubbo exile him! Since when was me trusting him called being a traitor?!”

“Technoblade executed Tubbo!” Niki shouts.

Fundy steps forward, too close, and Ranboo stumbles back. The crowd of endermen, now four, part around him like the tide. _Prince,_ they whisper again.

“Who are your friends, Ranboo?” Fundy asks; he looks at Ranboo and his eyes are grave. “Who are your friends?”

Ranboo’s hands are shaking and he clenches them into fists to make them still. When he backs up the stairs into Eret’s stronghold, the crowd follows. He looks from Fundy to Quackity to Niki and back again.

“You! Niki, Tubbo! Even Techno, I would consider Techno my friend! Phil! Phil is my friend, Tubbo is my friend, Tommy is my friend. And I’m sorry,” he gasps, as another enderman appears. “I’m sorry that whoever I’m friends with may not correlate with whatever country you’re affiliated with this week! But I care about people, okay? I don’t care about countries. I couldn’t— I couldn’t care less about countries. Why don’t you guys realize that?! Why don’t you—”

He shakes his head, spitting the next words towards the crowd like they’re poison. “ _Every single fight_ we’ve ever had, it’s been about sides! It’s been because we chose sides! Tubbo and Tommy! Tubbo exiled his _best friend_ because he chose a side. Why don’t you guys realize that choosing sides—”

Eret steps forward, his crown glinting in the afternoon sunlight. His eyes are harsh and white behind his sunglasses.

“When your friends fight, you _have_ to pick a side.”

Fundy nods. “Ranboo, the thing you seem to forget—”

“This wouldn’t happen if the sides didn’t exist in the _first place!”_ Ranboo spits, stepping away from the crowd. His heel catches on one of the stairs and an enderman catches him on the shoulder before he can stumble.

 _Careful, prince,_ it murmurs.

Fundy’s tail lashes. “No, listen,” he says, catching Ranboo’s eye again. “The thing that you seem to forget, Ranboo, is that the world isn’t just flowers and rainbows.”

Ranboo laughs darkly, lips curling into a bitter smile. “Oh, I know.” He shakes his head; his crown feels heavier, all of a sudden, though he’s never been bothered by its weight before. “But what I’m saying is...there will always be a conflict, yes! But between _people!_ Between certain people! If L’manberg didn’t exist, what would happen? What would happen, tell me, right now! Would Tubbo have exiled his _best friend_ , to go on an island and almost _die_ , because Dream told him to? No!”

The endermen around him hum. _Blood Prince,_ they whisper. He flicks his ears, jerks his head to knock their voices away, but they persist. _Blood Prince. Blood Prince._

Niki and Fundy exchange a look.

“He didn’t have a choice!” Fundy yells. “Dream didn’t give him a choice!”

“L’manberg is about freedom,” Niki adds, quieter but no less forceful. “Dream was going to threaten our freedom if Tommy was not exiled. You heard him, Ranboo, you heard—”

“It’s not about _freedom,”_ he spits over the endermen’s steady, droning murmurs. “You think L’manberg has ever been about _freedom?_ No! Sure, that’s what it may’ve looked like, but Dream has always had control! Why doesn’t anyone realize this?! He has _always_ had control and he _will always_ have control!”

“So we stop him!” Fundy says, reaching forward like he’s going to grab Ranboo’s arm, like he’s going to try and shake sense into him.

Ranboo slaps him away as the endermen, collectively, hiss. Fundy’s lips tighten. _Blood for the Blood Prince,_ the endermen whisper. _Blood for the Blood Prince._ He shakes his head harshly, but they just continue to repeat the phrase. If anyone else hears it, they give no indication. The endermen close ranks around him, leaving only his front unguarded.

“ _How?”_ Ranboo snaps. “How, Fundy? How are we going to stop him? He’s not going to go down without a fight, he’s not going to just up and _die_! Do you have _any_ idea how powerful he is; we aren’t strong enough to take him down, we aren’t strong enough to kill him!”

“You don’t know that! This time is different, Ranboo! We have the numbers, we have the people, we have the determination! We _will_ stop him, but you won’t fucking listen!”

“You’re just a coward,” Punz adds; Ranboo catches his eye over the crowd. “You’re just selfish. You don’t _want_ to choose.”

“No! I don’t—”

“You’re just a _traitor,”_ Quackity interrupts.

Ranboo startles, instinctively stepping back as the man appears at his side. The memory book is still clutched in his hands; Ranboo wants to grab it and hide it and burn it and make sure that no one ever touches it again, but Quackity’s eyes are locked onto his and he is frozen.

The endermen hum. _Blood for the Blood Prince._

“You don’t think we can stop Dream because, deep down, you don’t _want_ to, do you?” Quackity asks with a smile as sweet as honey and as sharp as a razor. “He was right, you know. I read your book.”

He reaches out and taps the leather cover against Ranboo’s chest. Ranboo shudders, lashing out with his claws before he can stop himself. Quackity stumbles away, eyes wide; his surprise quickly gives way to anger as blood blossoms from the scratches on his arm. Fundy’s tail lashes. In the crowd, metal flashes as weapons are drawn.

 _Blood for the Blood Prince,_ the endermen murmur, victorious. _Blood for the Blood Prince. Blood for the Blood Prince. Make him regret it._

“What the hell?!” Quackity yells. In one smooth motion, he’s traded out the book for an axe that Ranboo recognizes all-too-well from Technoblade’s execution.

 _Blood for the Blood Prince,_ the endermen scream. They crowd around him, shielding him with their bodies as Quackity brings the axe down. When they scatter, Ranboo is gone. A golden crown clatters to the floor, its spires stained red.

+++

He stumbles to his feet near the Nether portal and doesn’t hesitate before stepping into the purple swirls. His brain— the endermen— _something_ is screaming, and he cannot tell what, but it deafens him as the portal whisks him away. The Nether’s heat is as oppressive and suffocating as always, but he welcomes it.

He does not know where his feet are taking him, but he follows the cobblestone path like it is a familiar road. His hands are shaking and so he digs his fingers into the netherrack, scraping his claws through the soft, burning stone. The heat does not hurt, and he wonders if it should. It never has before.

His skin still itches from the weight of so many eyes. A ghast screams at him and he shouts back, stepping instinctively out of the path of its fireball. It hovers above him for a moment and he tilts his head back, daring it to fire another.

After a moment, it turns and drifts away. Something drops from its face as it goes and he strays from the path to catch it; a silvery tear lands in his hand. It rolls across his skin like mercury, but it doesn’t burn like water does, and he stares at it for a moment before dropping it to the ground. He keeps walking, and the tear seeps into the cracks into the cobblestone behind him.

His skin itches, and his blood boils, and his palms ache. His head pounds, and though the endermen have long since disappeared, he can still hear them. Their whispers mingle with Dream’s in his mind, overpowering but not completely obscuring. _Prince. Traitor._

He screams; it echoes in the Nether caverns before disappearing into the fire like everything else.

_Blood for the Blood Prince._

He stops in front of a portal. It feels familiar, almost.

He steps through.

The purple swirls spit him back out into a snow biome and he shivers, more out of habit than anything else. Anger, unfamiliar and scorching, keeps him warm.

_Blood for the Blood Prince._

Almost instinctively, he turns east. The snow crunches beneath his shoes and wind bites at his face, but he barely notices. When he looks down, his swords are in his hands. He doesn’t remember when that happened. His fists are clenched so tight around the hilts that it hurts.

He keeps walking.

_Blood for the Blood Prince._

The cabin in the valley is familiar, but he cannot fully recall why. All he knows is armor and villagers and, strangely enough, laughter. He trudges forward anyway; his feet must have brought him here for a reason.

There is a bee farm at the cabin’s side. It reminds him of Tubbo. He jerks his head, forcing the memories away. _Traitor,_ someone whispers; the voice sounds like both Dream and Quackity.

The door opens when he is at the base of the cabin’s stairs.

Technoblade steps out. His eyes burn white beneath his boar skull mask. His hair trails in two long braids down his back, and his crimson mantle brushes the ground beside his boots. There is a sword, nearly as long as he is tall, held loosely in his hands.

He tilts his head.

_Blood for the Blood Prince._

Ranboo meets his eyes.

 _Blood for the Blood Prince,_ the endermen in his head screech, and he twitches before he can force himself to freeze. Someone laughs, and it sounds like Dream, and someone laughs, and it sounds like Quackity, and someone laughs, and it sounds like him.

He opens his mouth with no idea what he’s going to say, or if he can even say anything at all.

“Blood for the Blood God.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit, thank you guys _so much_ for the incredible support on the last chapter. I did _not_ expect people to like this fic as much as they did sjkdfkjsdf but I'm glad. Here's the next chapter; I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> (also sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter lmao)

When Ranboo comes back to himself, he is kneeling in the snow, a sword that is not his clutched in his hands. The blade is heavy and he flings it away as far as he can; the setting sun glints on the metal and it drops soundlessly into a snowdrift a few feet away. He reaches down for his own weapons.

Their sheaths are empty. He stumbles to his feet. There is a weight missing from his head, but he cannot remember what it is supposed to be.

Someone grunts. “Welcome back.”

“What—”

Technoblade grins at him, flipping a sword in his hand. It’s one of Ranboo’s; the other is stabbed hilt-deep into the snow and dirt beside his feet. When he sees Ranboo looking, he pulls it from the ground and holds both weapons out, hilts-first.

“Here.”

Ranboo takes them hesitantly. “Why did you...why did I—? Why am I here?”

Techno shrugs. “I dunno, man, you’ll have to tell me that. You kind of just showed up on my doorstep with your swords out, it was weird.”

That’s...not good. Ranboo looks away.

“Oh.” He frowns. “Why didn’t you just kill me, then?”

“You looked...off.”

“Off?”

“Not in your right mind. The first thing you said to me was ‘blood for the Blood God,’ which is just an incredibly weird greetin’, if you ask me.”

“...oh.”

_Blood for the Blood Prince,_ his mind whispers. He shakes his head forcefully to knock the thought away. His hands stray back towards his swords before he stops himself.

“Has it—” he starts, before biting his lip so hard he tastes blood.

He looks away, towards the spruce forest. Purple eyes glow beneath the boughs; endermen lurk in the shadows. They worble a one-word greeting, and he shudders: _Prince._

Techno crosses his arms. “Has what?”

“Nevermind. Why did I have your sword?”

“Oh, right.” Techno reaches out and flexes his hand; a few feet away, still in the snowdrift, his sword flashes white before disappearing. Ranboo stares. “You were kinda tryin’ to kill me, or somethin’, and so I took your swords from you. And then you picked up mine, but you just ended up tirin’ yourself out tryin’ to fight with it, so I let it be.”

“I was trying to _kill_ you?”

Cold nausea rises in Ranboo’s throat. _Traitor,_ Quackity murmurs, gleeful. When he blinks, he can almost see the glints of three axe blades in the trees. He double-checks, and they’re gone. The endermen are still there, though. Watching.

“Tryin’ is the key word there. You weren’t doin’ a very good job.”

“But—”

Techno waves a hand. “I’m not gonna take it personally or anythin’, don’t worry. Doesn’t really look like you were all...there. I think you were just lookin’ for a fight, and for some reason, I was the one you went to.”

“Couldn’t really go to anyone else,” Ranboo mutters before he can stop himself. His brain adds, _you could. You’d just kill them, though, and we wouldn’t want that, would we? Traitor?_

“Ah,” Techno says, and doesn’t push it. “I see.”

Ranboo looks away from his steady, impassive posture, back towards the trees. The endermen have doubled, tripled; between the trunks is a rippling sea of purple-black bodies.

_Blood Prince,_ they whisper, their voices overlapping. _Blood Prince, our beloved. Blood Prince, our chosen._

“What’re you starin’ at?” Techno asks. Ranboo blinks.

“Wh— you can’t see them?”

“See who?”

“The—” Ranboo looks back at the forest. All the endermen are gone, the snow is undisturbed, and his words die in his throat. “The endermen, they were there, I saw them, they—”

He bites his tongue but continues, “They spoke to me. I swear, I thought—”

“Ah,” Techno mutters, more to himself than to Ranboo. He pauses for a moment, ears twitching, and then shakes his head. “Come on, let’s go inside. Your clothes don’t look very well-suited for the tundra.”

Ranboo blinks as the cold hits him all at once; he’s not as affected by it as he would be if he was human, but it’s still freezing. Techno shrugs off his cloak and passes it over without looking. 

“Here. Until we can find you your own.”

Ranboo takes the fabric slowly and drapes it over his shoulders like it’ll burn. Instead, the warmth is comforting and he immediately relaxes, brushing his cheek over the fur-lined collar. It’s...nice, far nicer than anything he’s ever worn.

“Thank you?”

Techno grunts. “Don’t mention it.”

He steps inside and Ranboo follows behind. The interior of the cabin is familiar, though he’s pretty sure he’s never been in the living room that Techno leads him to before. A fire roars in the hearth and a part of him, the part that catches ghast tears in his bare hands, wants to reach into the flames. He holds himself back and instead perches awkwardly on the edge of the couch.

“Are you really gonna destroy L’manberg tomorrow?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Techno freezes, but only for a split-second before he goes back to collecting books and papers from the coffee table.

“Uh...yep. I think I was pretty clear on that, earlier.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo mutters. “You were.”

Techno glances at him. “You’re not gonna try and stop me?”

“No.” He snorts, lips curling into a bitter smile. “You really think I could?”

“True.”

_Traitor,_ Quackity-Dream-Fundy-Niki whispers. _Traitor. You’re a traitor. You shouldn’t be here._

_You hurt them. You can’t go back._

_Is this what you wanted?_

_Blood Prince?_

He shudders. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You cold?” he says, like he already knows the answer.

“No.”

+++

“Can I stay here for tonight?” Ranboo asks; he’s not sure how long ago the sun set, but the sky outside the windows is dark and starless. He thinks he’s been staring into the flames for hours.

Techno frowns. “Here?” he repeats.

“I can’t go back to L’manberg.”

“Why not?”

Ranboo glances over. “I don’t—” _Blood for the Blood Prince, blood for the traitor._ “—remember.”

Techno grunts and stands from his armchair. He pauses in the doorway, eyebrow raised, and Ranboo realizes belatedly that he’s supposed to follow. Slowly, he rises to his feet, swaying at the unexpected weight from the cloak draped over his shoulders.

“What time is—” _Doomsday,_ he can almost hear Tommy saying, loud enough that his head pounds. He jerks his chin and the voice fades away. “When are you and Dream...destroying L’manberg?”

Techno studies him for a moment before turning and leading the way up the stairs. “Three pm,” he responds. “Why?”

Ranboo swallows. “Can I get my pets? Before you do? I couldn’t...I didn’t have time to get them out. Before I came here.”

“Sure,” Techno says after another heavy pause. “Phil and I are gonna be up all night brewin’ potions, we can make you some invis. Assumin’ you aren’t gonna want to be seen.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Thank you.” Ranboo tilts his head. “Wait, is Phil going, too?”

“Mhm. He’s been gettin’ bored, I think. Not much for the Angel of Death to do out here except build, but he doesn’t really have any projects right now.”

“Oh.”

The Angel of Death. Ranboo had forgotten about that moniker of Phil’s, or maybe he’d never known. _Traitor,_ Tubbo’s voice accuses, and he winces. Techno clears his throat.

“Anyway. We don’t really have a guest room - maybe I should talk to Phil about that - but you can sleep in here for tonight. I don’t really use it much, anyway, so.”

He pushes open one of the three closed doors in the small hallway upstairs; Ranboo steps inside cautiously and finds himself in a sparsely furnished bedroom. Besides the wardrobe, bed, and nightstand, the only indications that it’s _someone’s_ room are the empty armor stand in the corner and the small bookshelf tucked away beneath the window. He glances at Techno out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh,” he repeats. “Uh...thank you. Again. For...for letting me stay. And for not killing me.”

Techno nods awkwardly; they haven’t made any eye contact since Ranboo came back to himself, and he’s grateful.

“Sure. The least I could do, really.”

“Um.” Ranboo worries with the clasp of the cloak for a moment before pulling it off and holding it out. “Here. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Techno shakes his head. “Keep it, man. I have others, you can use it until we can get you your own cloak.” He glances up and pauses, eyebrows scrunching in a frown. “Wait, didn’t you have a crown? Or did I completely imagine that?”

_Blood Prince._

“I—”

Ranboo tilts his head; the familiar weight isn’t there and he freezes, panic constricting briefly in his chest. When he reaches up like that’ll magically make it appear, all his hand touches is his own hair. He doesn’t remember where he got the crown, just that he didn’t have it until one day he did, and— it’s important, he thinks. It’s important, and it’s gone.

_Blood Prince._

“I lost it.”

Techno nods slowly. “Ah. Well, this room is yours for the night. I’ll...see you in the mornin’, I guess.” He pauses, glancing over his shoulder as he steps out of the room. “Don’t touch the books.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

The door closes. Ranboo stares at it for a moment before he sighs, dropping onto the edge of the bed. The cloak is still clutched in his hands; he digs his claws into the heavy fabric until his hands hurt. _Traitor,_ Quackity whispers. _Traitor,_ Fundy says grimly. _Traitor,_ Dream shouts.

A scream tears itself from his throat and he doubles over, muffling it into the cloak. Outside, an enderman worbles, and he shudders. His head is pounding. His fingertips feel staticky. _Breathe, prince,_ the endermen chorus. _Don’t forget to breathe._

“Shut up,” he gasps.

_Breathe, prince._

_Breathe, traitor._

“No, shut up, I’m not—” he shudders. “Please, no. Stop.”

_Just breathe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe not what was expected but hopefully the lack of a fight didn't disappoint anyone sjdfjksdf we'll get to the violence eventually
> 
> speaking of which (kind of), I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update this. Don't count on me having an update schedule or anything but I'll try to get stuff out as fast as I can!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait until I had more of ch4 written to post this but. then I didn't

The sun is bright on the snow when Ranboo wakes. He doesn’t remember drifting off, but his dreams were filled with enderman chirps and manic laughter and half-remembered chants from the Hypixel arenas.

He’s still curled around Techno’s cloak, he realizes when he tries to loosen his clenched fists. His claws snag on the fabric and he winces, slowly flexing his fingers. They ache.

 _It’s Doomsday,_ a voice like Tommy’s crows, loud and echoing.

_Get ready, prince. It’s the day of blood._

Everything comes rushing back at once. The failed festival, the destroyed community house, his now-public status as a traitor...his apparent fight with Technoblade.

He shoots up on the bed, cloak pooling in his lap as he struggles to even out his breathing.

_It’s Doomsday. The Blood God has demanded a sacrifice._

_It’s Doomsday._

He walks carefully out of the room and down the stairs; the cloak trails behind him, draped over his shoulders like a shield. Techno had said he could keep it. Right?

Voices murmur from the kitchen and so he follows them, footsteps silent on the floors. Phil looks up when he steps into the doorway, but Techno stays hunched over the workbench in the corner. His hands are stained red and black with what Ranboo thinks - hopes? - is dye, and the room smells like gunpowder.

Phil breaks the silence first, smiling. “Hey, mate.”

Ranboo swallows. “Hi.”

“You slept in late.”

The sun is bright outside the window, near-blinding when it reflects on the snow. Ranboo frowns.

“Did I?” He curls his fingers into the cloak’s hem. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” Techno answers without looking up from his crafting. “I was gonna wake you up a few hours ago, but Phil said to let you sleep.” He pauses. “There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

Ranboo blinks slowly. “Oh. Thanks.”

Techno grunts an acknowledgment. Phil chuckles, reaching over to pluck three potions from one of the brewing stands lining the counters. Ranboo’s pretty sure there hadn’t been that many last night. He can’t remember exactly, though.

“Here.” Phil holds out the three bottles; shimmering, blue-silver liquid sloshes inside. Invisibility. “Techno said to brew some extra for you so you can go into L’manberg and get your pets without getting seen.”

Ranboo takes the bottles carefully. His hands are shaking. _Steady, now,_ a voice like Tubbo’s whispers. _Wouldn’t want to drop them._

He tucks the potions into one of the cloak’s pockets. “Thanks,” he says again.

Phil nods. “No problem. Let me know if you’ll need more than three, we’ve got plenty of supplies left.”

Ranboo glances at the line of brewing stands, all of which are filled with potions in various states of completion. Beneath the gunpowder, the smell of blaze powder drifts through the air. _Oh, so they’re_ rich _rich_ _,_ he thinks. Even Tubbo hadn’t had enough materials to brew potions for hours on end with stuff leftover afterward.

“What time is it, again?”

“Almost noon,” Techno repeats. “Dream’ll be here in like an hour and a half, and then we’re headin’ to L’manberg.”

Ranboo frowns, ignoring the coldness in his stomach and the riot in his head at the god’s name. “I thought Doomsday wasn’t until three.”

Phil snorts, repeating the name under his breath. It sounds like a promise when he says it. _Angel of Death,_ Techno’s voice echoes. Techno himself glances over his shoulder; he’s not wearing his mask, Ranboo realizes suddenly. His white irises flash red for a moment, but then he blinks and the color is gone.

“Well, we gotta prepare, don’t we?”

_Blood for the Blood God._

Ranboo swallows. “Yeah, true.”

He hovers awkwardly in the doorway for a moment longer before settling on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, out of Phil and Techno’s ways. Techno continues to ignore him, focused solely on creating stacks of what Ranboo now recognizes as fireworks, but every so often Phil will glance over from his potions, an expression on his face that strays far too close to concern for Ranboo’s liking. He closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see it and drifts, lost in half-formed dreams and screaming thoughts.

_Prepare yourself, Blood Prince._

He must fall asleep entirely at some point because the next thing he knows, he’s jerking awake as someone pounds on the cabin’s door. The brewing stands are empty and the worktable has been cleared of its supplies. Techno and Phil are nowhere to be seen, but movement from the entryway assures Ranboo that they haven’t abandoned him. Not that he really expected them to leave him alone, unguarded, in their house.

The door opens.

“Dream,” Techno greets.

“Hello!”

The smile in the god’s voice is almost audible and Ranboo stiffens. He stands and pads silently to the kitchen doorway before he can stop himself.

_Prepare yourself._

Techno’s back is to him, is the first thing he sees. His entire being thrums with oddly familiar power, and Ranboo swallows back an instinctive shudder. A netherite axe, unenchanted but no less intimidating, is slung over his back. Half-obscured behind the folds of his cloak is what could be a crossbow, though it’s clearly been altered. _Fireworks,_ Ranboo remembers.

 _Festival rockets,_ Tubbo’s voice spits, resigned. _Execution for a traitor._

Phil stands to Techno’s right, a few steps up on the stairs. This is the first time Ranboo has seen him fully armored; the netherite daggers hanging from his belt shimmer with enchantments. His soot-black wings are folded loosely; the feathers are still burned and ragged, healing slowly, but instead of making him look weak, he almost seems more intimidating.

 _The Angel of Death,_ Techno’s voice echoes again. Ranboo twitches.

Dream turns to look at him.

“Ranboo?” he asks, with shock that sounds performative. “You’re here?”

Ranboo jerks his chin in a nod. “I—” he starts, then clears his throat when the word doesn’t come out as more than a whisper. “Yeah.”

Dream tilts his head. “Hm. Not that I’m surprised, but I thought you’d be a little slower in accepting your position as a traitor. You seemed pretty against that fact yesterday.”

 _Traitor,_ Quackity spits, his good eye flashing. _Traitor,_ Tubbo accuses. _Traitor,_ Fundy says, _traitor,_ Niki says, _traitor,_ Puffy says, _traitor—_

“Shut up,” Ranboo mutters, pressing his palm to his temple. “Stop it.”

The smile on Dream’s mask seems to sharpen, suddenly. “What was that?”

Phil’s wings rustle. Techno shifts so that he can look at Ranboo without taking an eye off of Dream; his face is unreadable beneath the boar skull mask. Ranboo drops his hand to his side and bites his tongue. 

“Nothing.”

“If you say so,” Dream agrees pleasantly. The mask stays fixed on him for a moment longer before he turns back to Techno; all the tension in the room dissipates, but Ranboo’s fingers still itch to grab his weapons. “So, Techno. You ready?”

Techno huffs a laugh. “Of course I am, Dream, what do you take me for? An amateur?”

“This isn’t our first rodeo,” Phil adds, grinning.

Ranboo glances between the three of them. This feels like a conversation he should not be a part of, but he has no idea how to escape. _Blood Prince,_ a voice not unlike his own whispers, _this is right where you belong._

His ear twitches.

“Ranboo,” Techno says, breaking him from his thoughts, “you should leave now if you wanna get your pets out before the excitement starts.”

“Right, right. Yeah.” The invisibility potions clink softly in the cloak’s pocket when he steps forward. “Uh—”

With a grunt, Techno steps out of the way of the door. Dream does the same, though the mask tracks Ranboo when he walks past.

“Better not let them spot you!” he says cheerfully, as Ranboo is halfway out into the cold.

Ranboo freezes and glances back; Dream’s back is turned to him, now, as he talks to Techno. There’s no indication that he’d ever spoken at all.

The door slams shut.

+++

Voices draw his attention as he passes by Eret’s stronghold and, before he can stop himself, Ranboo has ghosted up the steps to peek inside. Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, and Punz are the closest to where he’s tucked into the shadows; beyond them, he can see others milling about, sharpening weapons or adjusting armor.

“—think we’re ready?” Tommy is saying, bouncing on his toes. “I mean—”

“It’s Dream and Technoblade, Tommy, of course we aren’t ready,” Tubbo interrupts sharply.

His suit is as pristine as always, but there are dark circles beneath his eyes. He shakes his head and continues, “That doesn’t matter, though. They’ll be here in less than an hour, so whether we like it or not, we _have_ to be ready. We won’t let them take our country, our home.”

Mouth set in a grim, determined line, he claps his hands. “Let’s gather everyone up; we’ll do any last-minute preparations that need to be done before heading over to Church Prime to say our prayers. After that, it’s to L’manberg.”

Tommy glances around at everyone. “Hey— where’s Ranboo? Shouldn’t he be here?”

Cold dread hardens in Ranboo’s chest and he sinks back against the wall, deeper into the shadows. He still has nearly six minutes left on his invisibility, but that doesn’t stop his mind from screaming that they’ll see him if he makes any movement.

“Oh,” Tubbo says softly, exchanging a look with Niki, who tilts her head.

“Nobody told you?”

Tommy frowns. “Told me what?”

“Yesterday, after you left, we all confronted him about what Dream said,” Punz explains. His hand is resting on the hilt of his sword. “He attacked Quackity and then dipped. No one has seen him since.”

Tommy might say something else, but Ranboo doesn’t hear it over the roaring in his ears. He turns and runs, uncaring if his footsteps are audible on the stronghold’s wooden floors. By the time the buzz in his head has lessened, he’s nearly to the bench. _Traitor,_ his mind whispers, and it sounds like Tubbo-Niki-Punz. He shakes his head and keeps on walking. His pets need him.

When the effects of his potion fade, he doesn’t bother to drink another. Nobody’s here to see him; they’re all at the stronghold, preparing for their country’s demise. The streets of L’manberg are silent and abandoned. It’s not even gone yet, and it’s already a ghost town.

He sighs, walking the familiar path to his house. Enderchest and Jjjjjjjjeffrey trot over to him as soon as he opens the door; Enderpearl trails behind them, tail flicking happily. Despite himself, he chuckles and kneels down, opening his arms as they jump on him.

“Hey, guys. Sorry I didn’t come home last night.”

His dog barks; the cats scramble to get out of the way as it bounds over. He laughs.

“Hi, buddy.” Slowly, he stands, trying not to overbalance as his animals crowd his legs. “We’re going on an adventure, okay? Let me grab my leads.”

It takes him a moment to locate the right chest; he ends up removing some of the junk from his ender chest to store his extra tools so that they won’t be destroyed, but finally he grabs four leads and attaches them to his pets’ collars.

“Alright, guys, let’s go.”

Slowly, carefully, he leads them out of L’manberg and past Purpled’s potato fields. Batthew squeaks at them, flapping excitedly, when Ranboo stops by his enclosure. It takes him a moment, but he eventually manages to get all four of his pets tied down beside the bat.

“I’ll come back for you guys as soon as I can, okay?”

His dog barks; the cats seem to care less, but Jjjjjjjjeffrey’s tail flicks and Enderpearl’s ear twitches, and Ranboo will take what he can get. With one final glance over his shoulder, he turns and starts making his way back to L’manberg. He wants to see it one last time.

There is a dark structure floating above the city, casting it in shadow, and Ranboo stares, wondering how he didn’t notice it sooner. If he squints, he can barely make out someone’s form atop the grid. 

_Careful,_ Dream’s voice murmurs; a smile flashes briefly through his mind and he shakes it away, scrambling up the hill back into the city. _Better not let them see you!_

Ranboo freezes, but the warning comes too late. The unused invisibility potions are heavy in his pocket. From the marketplace, Jack Manifold stares, eyes wide when they meet Ranboo’s.

“What—”

An enderman vrps as it appears at Ranboo’s side, its fingers curling gently over his shoulder. _What will you do, prince? It’s too late to run! They’ve seen you._

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Jack says slowly, backing away. He doesn’t break eye contact, and Ranboo wants to scream at him. “What are you doing here?”

_What will you do, prince?_

_What will you do, traitor?_

“Jack!” Puffy shouts; Jack spins to stare at her and Ranboo, helpless, follows his gaze. Puffy’s eyes are wide and frightened as she runs up, and her knuckles are tight around the hilt of her sword. “They’re here, Techno’s here, and he—” she freezes. “Ranboo? You came back?”

“I—”

The words get stuck in his throat. Beside him, a second enderman wraps its arm around his shoulders and leans forward, leering.

_What will you do, Blood Prince?_

Puffy’s eyes narrow. “You’re with Technoblade and Dream, aren’t you.”

He shakes his head frantically, skin buzzing. “No! I’m not, I—”

“You attacked Quackity after he called you out!”

He doesn’t remember that, but it sounds familiar. _Traitor,_ Quackity’s voice shouts, and the endermen hiss. Ranboo tries to raise his hands, but his fingers are clenched into fists. When he looks down, his swords are drawn. 

He doesn’t remember reaching for them.

Jack and Puffy stare. Her scimitar flashes when she draws it. Somewhere, dogs are barking, and a familiar voice is shouting, but he can’t hear the words.

“Ranboo, mate,” Jack says, and he sounds almost disappointed. “ _You?_ Of all people?”

“I expected better,” Puffy agrees.

She hasn’t moved to attack; her sword stays at her side, waiting.

He opens his mouth to say something. An apology, maybe. The endermen chuckle.

_It’s too late for that, Blood Prince._

A screech tears itself from his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another cliffhanger,,,,,,,,,my bad


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one gave me some Trouble but I'm content with how it turned out. enjoy! next chapter will be the Doomsday aftermath

Phil spins on the obsidian wall as a scream tears across L’manberg; it sounds like a hellish mix between an enderman and a ghast, and it makes his blood run cold. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Techno and the L’manberg fighters freeze in their argument, turning as one to the source of the sound. It’s— 

“Ranboo!” Puffy shouts as two netherite swords slam down on her scimitar hard enough that the clang is audible from Phil’s position on the wall.

Jack stumbles away, unsheathing his own sword. “Puffy, run!”

“I’m trying!”

She manages to push Ranboo off and stumble away, grabbing Jack’s wrist as she runs. Ranboo snarls, sending static through the air; he twirls his swords, netherite flashing in the sun, and stalks forward. Between one step and the next, he’s gone. Phil blinks the blood-red afterimage from his vision.

“What the  _ fuck?” _ Tommy says, glancing around; one of his hands drifts towards his sword but he doesn’t draw it, just reaches towards Tubbo with the other.

Puffy and Jack slow, caught between the hound army and where Ranboo had been. Both of their chests are heaving, and the fear emanating off of them is near-palpable.

“Shit,” Jack hisses.

Techno chuckles, but before he can say anything, the air hums. Phil blinks and Ranboo has reappeared, two feet away from Jack and Puffy with his swords still drawn. His back is turned, facing away from everyone else, but Phil’s eyes widen as his aura flares; previously, it had been a mix of grey smoke and purple, drifting particles. Now it looks like he’s surrounded by a cloud of blood, billowing around his form. It’s eerily similar to Techno’s bloody, crimson mist.

Puffy shifts her stance, holding her scimitar up in a defensive position. Beside her, Jack does the same. Ranboo growls and charges, swords flashing. Metal clangs as Puffy blocks his blow and pushes him back; he barely hesitates before shifting and attacking again.

Techno laughs, startled but pleased. “I guess we’re doing this, then!” he shouts up to Phil, who grins.

He summons his glaive from his inventory; the curved blade ripples with pale, mint green light as it comes into being. Half of the L’manberg people turn at the flash, dread dawning on their faces as they realize he’s there. Fundy’s ears twitch.

“Grandpa?” he calls.

Phil allows his smile to turn sharp. “Fundy.”

“Why are you— what are you doing here?”

Phil spreads his arms wide. “What do you  _ think?” _

In his free hand, he summons a potion of harming. Fundy’s eyes widen as he recognizes it, but it’s too late. The potion splashes down into the center of L’manberg’s fighters. They scream, stumbling away from each other, and Phil purses his lips; they should’ve known better than to be grouped up like that.

Techno laughs again, and Phil doesn’t have to see his eyes to know they’ve bled bright, burning red. Bottles smash in quick succession as he splashes potions onto both himself and the wolves; half the army turns invisible and Techno whoops.

“I’m a genius!” he shouts, and Phil laughs.

Techno whistles sharply and chaos descends as the wolves attack. His own sword appears in a flash of light, near-blinding even with the sun still high in the sky, and his cloak becomes a crimson blur as he stalks the battlefield. Screams mix with the wolves’ barking and Techno’s laughing taunts. Phil watches from the wall, throwing his daggers at anyone who even dares get too close, but half his attention is still drawn to Ranboo.

His movements are brutal and deadly, and Phil can tell that Puffy and Jack are struggling to keep up. Jack shouts as one of Ranboo’s swords breaks his guard, cutting into his side in between the chinks in his armor. It’s only Puffy’s scimitar and quick reaction speed that keep both of Ranboo’s blades from slamming down on his head.

“What the hell, Ranboo?” she shouts, pushing him back and dragging Jack away in the same motion.

Ranboo doesn’t answer; he simply shifts his grip on his swords and starts forward, teleporting midstep. This time, Puffy is too slow. Jack yelps as Ranboo reappears behind him, sword at his neck. A quick slash and his body is tipping forward, already disappearing into smoke. Puffy spins, barely managing to catch Ranboo’s swords on her own.

Ranboo looks up and Phil swallows, a chill running down his spine. Both of Ranboo’s eyes are bright, burning red, like Techno’s.

“Ranboo!” Tubbo shouts, and the moment is broken.

Ranboo doesn’t even twitch, still intently focused on Puffy; it’s like he hadn’t heard Tubbo at all. He pulls back his swords and Puffy stumbles away, catching her breath.

“Puffy, move!”

Tubbo steps forward, a bucket clutched in his hands. Phil doesn’t realize what’s happening until he’s rushed past Puffy and flung the bucket forward; water flies forth and Ranboo screeches, hands spasming as it splashes over him. His swords drop onto the wooden path. Phil winces.

Tubbo grabs Puffy’s wrist. “I’m sorry,” he says, so quiet that Phil barely hears it, and then he and Puffy are running.

Ranboo doesn’t follow. He stays, chest heaving, on the ground, as his aura flickers around him. Phil stares, watching as purple particles reappear, spinning through the bloody smoke.

His attention is torn away as fireworks burst in the sky, red and black. The sparks shower down over the battlefield. Confused shouts rise from L’manberg’s fighters.

“It’s time, Phil!” Techno calls; he punctuates the shout with another spray of fireworks.

All thoughts of Ranboo are pushed away; that is a concern for when they aren’t in the middle of a battle. Phil drops his glaive back into his inventory and trades it out for soul sand and coal-black skulls. It’s as familiar as breathing to summon the withers; the sounds of them appearing shake the ground, echoing across the battlefield.

He grins. Now the  _ real _ fun starts.

+++

Ranboo comes back to himself on his knees, dripping wet. His skin burns. Around him, people are screaming; he blinks, forcing his eyes to focus. It still takes him a moment to recognize that he’s in L’manberg. He has no idea how he got here.

_ It’s Doomsday, _ an enderman reminds, nudging his discarded swords with its toe.  _ Better do your part. _

“Right,” Ranboo mutters. Every movement hurts; he has no idea how he got wet, but the water has seeped beneath his armor, soaking through his clothes.

He shakily reaches for his swords. They’re bloody, and he doesn’t know why. The sight makes him nauseous.

_ Blood for the Blood Prince, _ the enderman says. It disappears when he looks up at it.

“Ranboo?” someone asks; boots appear in his line of vision. “What the heck are you doin’, man, there’s an entire battle goin’ on.”

He glances up, flinching away instinctively when he sees Techno towering above him, sword held to the side. His eyes are bright red, but beneath the mask, it looks like he’s frowning.

“I’m...not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Techno repeats. “You were fightin’ like not even five minutes ago, why—”

“I was?”

Ranboo looks back down at his swords. The blood seems brighter, all of a sudden, and he resists the urge to drop them back onto the ground. Instead, he slides them back into their sheaths. Techno tilts his head and holds out a hand.

“That’s very concernin’,” he observes mildly.

“Yeah,” Ranboo mutters.

After a pause, he shakes his head and grabs Techno’s hand, allowing the man to pull him to his feet. His head spins but he steps back anyway, out of Techno’s space, and pretends that he isn’t blinking spots from his eyes.

“Get out of here, Ranboo,” Techno says, shifting his grip on his sword. “You’re not gonna want to be here when the TNT starts to fall; just avoid the withers on your way out and you’ll be fine. No one’ll notice.”

Ranboo frowns. “The—”

A whirring screech echoes above them before he can finish; Techno drags him aside and, seconds later, the path where they’d been standing splinters beneath a rotting ball of dark energy. The wood sizzles. Techno drops an invisibility potion on them before the wither can turn around and backs away, pulling Ranboo with him.

“That.”

Ranboo nods even though Techno can’t see him. “Right, yeah. Yeah. I’ll— yeah.”

Techno is silent for a moment, long enough that Ranboo’s half-sure he’s already left, before he says, “Don’t die.”

His footsteps crunch on the gravel as he leaves.  _ The blessing of the Blood God, _ Ranboo’s mind whispers.  _ Perfect for you, little prince. _

He shakes the voice away. Above, more withers screech, and people shout. Slowly, he starts making his way out of L’manberg, doing his best to avoid the withers and the fighting.

“Shit!” Quackity shouts suddenly, loud even over the chaos of the battlefield.

Ranboo turns in time to watch his body dissolve into smoke; his communicator pings at the same time. 

[ _ Quackity was slain by Technoblade using Orphan Obliterator] _

Before he can minimize the chat, another message catches his eye. It’s nearly off the screen, pushed up by the list of Techno’s kills, but—

_ [Jack Manifold was slain by Ranboo] _

Suddenly, his swords feel heavier in their sheaths. His limbs feel numb and, even though his hands are clean when he looks down, he can almost see the blood coating his palms. He doesn’t remember doing it, doesn’t even know exactly how or when it happened, but Jack’s screams echo in his ears.

_ Blood for the Blood Prince, _ Jack spits.  _ Blood for the traitor. _

“No,” Ranboo mutters, stumbling back; he nearly trips over a dip in the earth but he barely notices. “No, stop, I didn’t—”

_ Traitor, _ Jack screams.  _ You killed me! You killed me, Blood Prince. _

“No, I didn’t— please—”

Explosions ring in his ears, and it’s not until TNT begins falling that he realizes it’s not just his mind. He stumbles away, but not before it explodes; the shockwaves send him back and he trips, falling to his knees on the rocks. When he catches himself, his already burned palms splash into a shallow puddle. He screams.

_ This is Doomsday, Blood Prince. Don’t you love it? _

_ They’re dying, Blood Prince. Don’t you care? _

“Ranboo, move!” someone shouts; he blinks, scrambling to recognize the voice.

They grab his arm and pull him away as more TNT impacts the ground a few feet from where he’d been kneeling. “What the hell are you doing?!”

He squints, shaking his head to clear the spots from his eyes. Between the explosions and the screams in his mind and the shouting from everyone else, he can barely hear what the other person is saying.

“...Tubbo?” he finally manages.

“Ranboo,” Tubbo greets. He won’t look at Ranboo, and as soon as they’re clear from the explosions, he drops Ranboo’s arm like it burns.

“Thank you,” Ranboo answers, even though that feels like the wrong thing he should be saying right now. He swallows. “I—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tubbo interrupts. 

His eyes flick up to meet Ranboo’s, briefly.  _ Blood for the Blood Prince, _ his mind hisses. He curls his hands into fists so that he doesn’t reach for his swords.

Tubbo is already turning away. Ranboo has no idea why he saved him; he’s a traitor, isn’t he? Tubbo would’ve been better off letting him die. He killed Jack. It’s the least he can do to repay that.

“I’m sorry,” he calls weakly to Tubbo’s back.

There’s no response.

The TNT continues to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some mechanics notes:
> 
> \- the invisibility potions turn the user(s) completely invisible, even if they're wearing armor or holding items. is this the case for all potions on the world or just the ones that were brewed by Techno and Phil (gods)? who knows!
> 
> \- I imagine the chat for the communicators is a hologram that they can interact with. the comms are worn as a bracelet and are almost indestructible, but they can be taken off at will. admins can also deactivate them. there are different chat and voice channels - a worldwide channel, private messages, and custom made groups for specific people (basically discord but like. higher tech ig)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaa sorry this took so long to get out, I started 3 more things and then worked on none of them. Anyway, take this longer chapter as a distraction to whatever Ranboo is doing today. happy 16th!

Eventually, the explosions stop. Ranboo almost doesn’t notice through the ringing in his ears and the shouting in his head, but when he finally looks up from where he’s curled in a corner of his and Fundy’s bread and ice cream stand, L’manberg is gone. He stumbles to his feet, swaying when spots dance in front of his eyes. A chuckle whispers on the wind. Slowly, carefully, he makes his way towards the ruins.

Smoke hangs heavy in the air; the few people that remain to inspect or mourn the destruction all have cloths or masks covering their mouths and noses, and Ranboo briefly wonders if he should do the same. When he steps into the smog, there is no visible difference to the air he’s breathing except for the fact that it feels slightly thicker in his lungs. Not in a bad way, though - just strange.

_ Just like in the Nether, _ a voice reminds him. He shakes it away as he steps up to the edge of the crater.

Everything is gone. He can still imagine where the houses and marketplace stalls would be, but there’s barely any trace of them ever existing. Even the colors are gone, coated in soot-grey dust.

Ranboo sighs. He thinks he should feel sad, that the only home he’s ever known on the server is gone, but he just feels— numb. Empty. Even with the smoke in his lungs and his feet balanced on the crater’s jagged edge, it doesn’t feel real. Thunder rumbles.

He glances up as it starts to rain. It’s no different from his tears; he stares blankly at the clouds for a moment before looking back to the crater. There’s where his house used to be, and that was Phil’s, and there was the bee dome he built with Tubbo, and that was the van, and—

Someone steps up beside him. A moment later, the rain stops burning trails across his skin, and Ranboo frowns, because he can still see it pouring down on L’manberg’s ruins.

“Doesn’t the rain hurt you?” Phil asks casually; Ranboo glances over to see him standing a foot or so away, one of his wings raised above their heads and— oh. That would be why the rain stopped.

“Yeah,” he says, a moment too late.

Phil frowns. “And you were just. Standing in it?”

“...yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound very productive,” Techno says, and Ranboo jumps. He hadn’t noticed him approach.

He shrugs. “I’m used to it, so. It’s not that bad.”

“Right,” Phil says slowly. “If you say so. You shouldn’t be standing this close to the rubble, mate. The smoke’ll fuck up your lungs if you don’t have the right protection.”

Ranboo glances at him and then at Techno; both of their noses and mouths are uncovered. When he points that out, Techno just laughs.

“We’re built different.”

Phil snorts. “Smoke doesn’t really affect us. You, on the other hand—”

“I don’t think it affects me, either,” Ranboo blurts. “It, uh. It kind of just feels like I’m in the Nether?”

He pretends not to notice the look Phil and Techno exchange. Phil clears his throat.

“And how’s that?”

“Um...I don’t know, warm? It’s just different, I don’t really know how to explain it. It doesn’t feel  _ bad. _ ”

“Huh,” Techno says. “Is that an enderman thing, or—?”

Ranboo tilts his head. “No. I don’t think so.”

The conversation falls flat after that. Ranboo loses track of how long they stand staring at the crater, but the sun is starting to set when Techno clears his throat.

“Well, we should be gettin’ home. I don’t know about you guys, but destroyin’ a country is exhaustin’.” He pauses, then looks at Ranboo. “Sorry about that, by the way, uh—”

“It’s fine,” Ranboo assures, even though he’s not completely sure how he feels about it yet. “I...L’manberg wasn’t a good place, I don’t think.” 

“True,” Techno agrees.

He nods sagely, grumbling under his breath when a wet strand of hair falls free from his braid and smacks him on the cheek. Phil laughs, and even Ranboo chuckles when the disgruntled look on Techno’s face only grows.

“I hate you both,” he mutters. “Let’s go.”

They make it halfway up the slightly ruined staircase before a voice in Ranboo’s head whispers,  _ Forgetting something? _

He freezes midstep, fingers twitching, and ignores how Techno and Phil both slow and turn to look at him, confused.

“Can we...I need to go back. For my pets. I left them by Purpled’s farm, and—”

“Course,” Phil agrees gently.

Techno blinks at them, unreadable beneath his mask. “I’ll meet you guys back at the house, then, if that’s alright.”

Phil nods. “See you later, mate.”

Techno waves over his shoulder as he trudges away. Ranboo watches him leave, his blood-red cape swaying at his heels, and only turns when Phil nudges him.  _ It’s nice, isn’t it? _ a voice asks when the cloak Techno had given him brushes his legs. The white fur lining is stained red, and Ranboo scrubs at the blood with his claws.

_ Stop that, _ another voice admonishes.  _ It’s only natural for it to be there. _

He shakes his head and leads Phil to get his pets.

+++

Every inch of Ranboo is hurting by the time they make it back to the cabin. Adrenaline had made him numb to his wounds earlier, but now that he’s firmly grounded in his body and trying to wrangle three animals, all he wants to do is drink a health potion and pass out. Phil must notice his discomfort, because he offers to carry the cats; usually, Ranboo would decline, but now he’s more than glad to hand his animals over.

The warmth that washes over him when he enters the cabin is more than welcoming, and he sags in relief before he can stop himself. Phil chuckles and sets the cats down before leading the way into the living room. Techno is already there, armor and sword discarded on the floor beside him. Yet again, his mask is off, and Ranboo can’t help but stare. He looks so...human. Still intimidating, obviously, but not untouchable like the legends and the Butcher Army have made him out to be.

“We’re home,” Phil announces, pulling off his cloak.

Techno grunts, not looking up from where he’s winding a bandage around his leg. Ranboo’s dog trots over, tail wagging excitedly; he tenses when it shoves its face in Techno’s, but all Techno does is chuckle, ruffling its fur with his free hand. Ranboo blinks, startled. He stays awkwardly standing by the wall, eyes bouncing between Techno and Phil and the floor, until Phil clears his throat.

“Take off your armor and stuff, mate, we need to see if you’re injured.”

“Wh— oh. Right.”

Ranboo reaches up to take off the cloak, wincing when it pulls at some of the water burns. He still has no idea how he got them - besides the rain, because he was hurt before that started - but he can feel the injuries lacing up his torso and shoulders. His hands are torn up from how often he fell, and if it weren’t for his leg guards, he’s sure his knees would be the same. At this point, he’s going to be more bruise than skin.

_ You’re used to it, though, aren’t you? _ a voice murmurs, and he instinctively bobs his head in agreement.  _ Blood Prince. _

He tenses, fingers frozen on the clasps of the top part of his chestplate. Techno glances over.

“You good, man?”

Ranboo forces a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Yeah. Just...there are water burns on my torso, I think. It’s making it kind of hard to move.”

“Oof, yeah, I saw Tubbo throw that water bucket on you, that must’ve hurt,” Phil says.

Ranboo blinks, breath stuttering in his chest. Tubbo had—? That’s why—?

_ Well, of course, _ his mind hisses, vindicated and pleased.  _ He wouldn’t just let you get away with being a traitor, would he? _ Tubbo’s voice echoes beneath the word traitor. He shudders.

Seemingly oblivious, Phil continues, “You can ask us for help, Ranboo, you don’t have to hurt yourself more. Can I—?”

Ranboo blinks and suddenly Phil is standing in front of him, hands raised.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.”

The proximity is  _ too much, _ but the pressure of the armor is making the burns hurt even more, and so Ranboo stays perfectly still and stares at the wall unblinkingly until Phil moves away. His hands itch to reach for his swords but he holds them still; this is Phil, and he is helping, and he does not want to ruin this thread of undeserved hospitality that he’s clinging to.

Thankfully, Phil steps away as soon as he’s done, and Ranboo forces himself to relax.

“Thank you,” he mutters, and Phil smiles, too soft.

“Course, mate. Go sit down, I’m gonna go grab us all some regen potions. If you need help bandaging anything, you can ask Techno.”

Ranboo will absolutely not be asking Techno, but he says, “Okay,” anyway before curling himself into the armchair closest to the fire. Enderchest leaps up into his lap immediately and he winces when she jostles the burns, but he can’t stop the smile that comes when she butts her face into her hand.

His skin prickles with the weight of someone’s eyes. He looks up. Techno.  _ Of course, _ he thinks, and a voice echoes,  _ who else would it be? _

“So...” Techno starts awkwardly; he looks back down at the dog in his lap and Ranboo is grateful. “I’m guessin’ you don’t have a place to stay anymore?”

“Um, no, not really. I’ll find somewhere, though.”

Techno clears his throat. “You could, uh. Always stay here, with me and Phil.” He pauses, eyes distant, and then hastily continues, “Not in the house, obviously, I think Phil is planning on building you your own, but. You’re not...terrible. So. I wouldn’t care if you wanted to stay around here.”

_ Oh, _ Ranboo thinks, and then repeats it aloud. “...thank you.”

Techno grunts and the conversation falls back into awkward silence. Phil returns a minute later, and Ranboo takes the offered potion thankfully. It makes his skin tingle uncomfortably as the magic starts its work, but the pain lessens.

“We should bandage your burns,” Phil says. “The potion probably won’t fix everything, and we don’t want those getting infected or anything.”

Ranboo frowns. That means having to let one of them get close to him for long enough to properly wrap the bandages. He’s...fine with that, he trusts Techno and Phil, but the thought makes his skin crawl either way.  _ Angel of Death, _ a voice mutters, and another chimes,  _ the Blood God. Certainly, you can trust that. _

“I don’t. Have a change of clothes,” he mutters instead of voicing any of those concerns. “They, uh.”

“Were in L’manberg,” Phil finishes. “Right.”

He exchanges a look with Techno, who says, “You can borrow some of mine, they’ll probably fit. You’re tall but you’re also, like, super skinny.”

Ranboo snorts. “That’s fair.”

He leans forward to set Enderchest on the ground, wincing when the movement jostles his burns.  _ Ask the Blood God, _ a voice hisses, and he flicks his ear in acknowledgment. He doesn’t want Phil or Techno to have to help him bandage his torso, but of the two of them...surprisingly, Techno is the one he’s more comfortable with. He’s not sure why.

“Can, um. When you lend me the clothes, can you help me with the bandages?” he asks, so softly that he’s half-sure Techno will ask him to repeat the question.

Thankfully, he doesn’t. He just nods and stands, nudging Ranboo’s dog away, and reaches down for his armor. With a wave of his hand, it all disappears in a bright flash, and Ranboo stares. Techno raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

Ranboo blinks. “How did— you know what? Never mind.”

Techno huffs a laugh and waves a hand at Ranboo’s armor, which also disappears. Ranboo’s fingers twitch but he bites down his protest. It’s...fine. He’ll be fine.  _ Who needs armor? _ the voices chorus.  _ You have us. _

“C’mon,” Techno grunts.

Ranboo hurries to follow; he debates calling his animals, but the dog has curled up in the space Techno left on the floor and all three cats have scattered, so he leaves it. The cabin is safe. Right?.

He follows Techno upstairs and to his room with a sense of deja vu that strengthens and lessens in waves. Instinctively, he reaches for his memory book, only to curl his fingers away like he’s been burned when he sees the smile where his words should be.

Quackity had the actual notebook.

Quackity died.

It’s probably gone, now.

He shoves the fake book back into its holster and follows Techno into the bedroom. Techno shuts the door behind them but doesn’t close it all the way, simply lets the latch tap against the doorframe.

“Hold on, I’ll get you the clothes in a second,” he mutters, eyes going distant as his hand hovers in the air.

Vague, semi-transparent shapes flash in his palm, too fast for Ranboo to get a good look at, but he thinks he sees armor and weapons. After a moment, Techno frowns.

“When did I get a book?” he asks under his breath.

Ranboo tenses. An enderman appears briefly beside Techno before shattering into purple sparks.  _ Get that, _ it worbles, low and staticky.  _ Get that, get that, get that. _

“Can I see?”

Techno glances over. “What? Sure.”

With a bright white flash, the flickering shape in his palm solidifies into a familiar, battered notebook. Ranboo snatches it from his hand before he can stop himself, barely remembering to say thank you, and ruffles through the pages. Nothing is out of order. He slumps, relieved, and slides it into its holster to replace the fake one. He’ll have to figure out what to do with the second journal; burn it, maybe, or add another holster to his belt - part of him wants to keep it. As a reminder. He bites his tongue.

Techno is watching him, scrutinizing. “Wait...isn’t that the book that Dream—”

“Gave to Tubbo,” Ranboo finishes, unable to stop the bitterness from leaking into his voice. He holds up the fake book. “He somehow got my memory book and replaced it with this. I didn’t— I didn’t realize. Until it was too late. But Quackity had it, I thought,” there’s a blurry memory of a threat and of buzzing anger, “so how did you—?”

Techno shrugs. “Beats me, man. I think I probably just picked it up in the fightin’ and forgot about it until just now.” He points at his bookshelf, tucked beneath the window. “I like books, so.”

“Ah.”

Ranboo hugs the fake book to his chest, wincing when it presses against his half-healed burns. Techno shakes his head.

“Oh, right. I was gonna help you with that, hang on.” He waves his hand and Ranboo stares as armor tumbles from thin air onto the bed. “There’s your armor...maybe we should’ve cleaned that before I dropped it on my bed. Uh. Oh well? Whatever, it’s fine.”

“It doesn’t look that dirty,” Ranboo agrees, pushing past his confusion at how Techno can apparently store objects in the ether. “I think the rain cleaned most of the ash and stuff off.”

Techno hums as he turns towards his wardrobe. “True.”

He turns back around, a pile of clothes clutched in his hand. “Here. I’ll bandage your burns and then you can put this on, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Ranboo fiddles with the clothes for a moment before setting them on the bed beside his armor. He and Techno stand in silence for a moment before Techno clears his throat.

“You gotta, uh. You need to take your shirt off, Ranboo, if I’m gonna actually do anythin’ here.”

“Oh! Oh.” Ranboo bites back a grimace. “Right.”

He pretends that his hands aren’t shaking when he pulls off the cloak and drapes it by his armor. It’s harder to act like he’s fine when his fingers keep slipping off the buttons of his shirt, but Techno politely doesn’t mention it.  _ Weak, _ a voice spits.  _ You should be better than this, Blood Prince. _

He bares his teeth at it and slides his shirt off his shoulders. The room is cold. Techno takes the ruined fabric, torn and bloodstained and covered in soot, and reaches for the cloak. Ranboo snarls, all enderman, before he can swallow the sound back.

Techno glances towards him, but his eyes land somewhere past Ranboo’s arm. “I just need to clean it, man, chill. You can use another one, I have literally so many.”

Ranboo forces himself to relax as Techno picks the cloak up. He flicks his fingers and light flashes; when it fades, the cloak has been replaced with a roll of bandages. 

“Okay, uh. I’m not really sure how to do this in a way that isn’t extremely awkward for the both of us, but you’re taller than I am, so maybe sit down on the bed and we’ll work from there? It looks like the worst of the burns are more on your upper half, so that’s better.”

Ranboo nods and sits silently on the edge of the mattress; he doesn’t trust himself to speak without it coming out garbled. Luckily, Techno doesn’t seem to mind the silence as he starts wrapping his torso, careful to not press the burns too much. His hands, when they very briefly brush Ranboo’s skin, are warm, and Ranboo keeps himself frozen, fighting the urge to lean into the touch. He loses track of time, keeping himself as still and silent as possible; Techno breaks him from his drifting with a cough and then a light tap on the shoulder.

“All good,” he mutters, stepping back, and Ranboo feels like he can breathe for the first time in minutes. “You injured anywhere else I need to look at?”

“Oh, uh—” Ranboo glances down at himself and flexes his hands in his lap; the burns and scabs there stretch, and he winces. “My hands?”

Techno tilts his head, studying them when Ranboo holds them up. “Oof, yeah. That’s gonna make holdin’ things annoyin’ for a bit. Good thing we have a bunch of regen potions, huh?”

Ranboo chuckles, clenching his jaw when Techno’s fingers brush his palm as he gently wraps the bandages. “Yeah.”

Yet again, Techno steps back as soon as he’s finished, and Ranboo is grateful.  _ The Blood God can be kind, see? _ a voice murmurs, and he blinks.

“You can put your shirt on now,” Techno says, breaking through his thoughts. He pauses, then continues, “If you want to, you can sleep in here again for tonight.”

Ranboo carefully pulls the shirt over his head; it’s far too loose, even with his height. He feels kind of ridiculous. The fabric is soft, though.

“Don’t you need to sleep, too?”

“Eh.” Techno waves a hand. “Phil and I need less sleep than most people. We’re gonna be up again restockin’ supplies, and I think Phil is gonna start on makin’ you your own clothes.”

Ranboo frowns. “He doesn’t have to—”

“He wants to, and there’s really no stoppin’ him once he gets like this,” Techno interrupts. He sounds fond.

“Oh. Okay, then, I guess? Thanks for letting me use your bed, seriously, you don’t—”

“It’s fine, Ranboo.”

Techno pulls another cloak from the wardrobe and tosses it over. Ranboo curls his fingers into the soft fabric; it’s just as nice as the first cloak, but it feels different, somehow. He frowns but doesn’t comment on it, just bows his head in thanks. Techno runs a hand through his hair, which is now more out of its braid than in.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, I suppose. You’ve had a long day, I wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out soon. I’m goin’ back downstairs, but I’ll leave the door open so your pets can come and go if they want.”

Ranboo nods. All his exhaustion is hitting him at once. His body feels heavy.

“Can I take your armor to clean?” Techno asks, and he jerks.

“No, don’t— no. Please.”

Techno raises his hands. “Okay, okay. It’s fine. I’ll leave it here, you can clean it later, just try not to hurt yourself or anythin’ by rollin’ onto it in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, of course,” Ranboo agrees, all the tension fading from his body. “Thank you, Techno.”

Techno grunts and leaves. Ranboo stares after him for a long moment, claws still curled in the almost-wrong cloak.

+++

Techno slumps down on the couch next to Phil, allowing himself a moment to relax into the cushions before he leans forward and pulls his hair out of its braid. He has a headache from the fight and from the voices, but he still turns silently so that Phil can start untangling the knots. His fingers are gentle, as usual.

“How is he?” he asks, voice soft.

Techno hums. “Doin’ better. I wrapped his burns and he’s probably gonna pass out soon. He didn’t like it when I took the cloak.”

“I don’t think he likes being unprotected.”

Techno huffs a laugh, even though it isn’t funny. “Yeah. I get that.”

The conversation lapses into comfortable silence for a moment, and then Phil says carefully, “He reminds me of you.”

The voices rise in agreement and Techno winces, squeezing his eyes shut.  _ Blood God, _ they’re saying, though for once it isn’t vicious.  _ Blood Prince. _ He grimaces.

“Yeah.”

He knows what it looks like when someone is hearing things no one else can. Phil’s fingers brush his shoulder, briefly, before they go back to carding through his hair.

“You saw his aura, didn’t you?”

Techno bobs his head gently. “That’s not what it normally looks like, is it?”

“No.”

“Looked kind of like mine.”

_ Of course, it did!  _ the voices clamor.  _ Obviously. Blood God, Blood Prince, it makes sense. Ooh, Princeboo pog? Someone like us! Ranboo’s not a god, what are you on about? _

“It did,” Phil agrees.

Techno swallows, rolling the words around on his tongue before he says, “When he showed up. Yesterday. He was...out of it. Like— you remember when we first met?”

That was centuries ago, now, but he knows Phil does.

“Mhm. And today with Jack and Puffy—”

“Exactly.”

“Both his eyes were red, too. Usually only one of ‘em is like that, and it’s usually not that bright,” Phil adds.

His fingers are still carding through Techno’s hair even though all the knots are gone. Techno doesn’t mind.

He sighs. “He didn’t even realize he’d been fightin’. He  _ killed _ someone, and he had no idea. I know he has memory loss, but that’s—” he shakes his head. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence for Phil to know what he’s getting at: it hits a little too close to home for how Techno had been at the beginning.

“You think he’s like you,” Phil finishes.

He rests a hand on Techno’s shoulder; it’s a warm, comforting weight, and Techno leans back into it.

“Not exactly,” he corrects. “I mean, I don’t think he’s becomin’ a god or anythin’; I already did that and I doubt the Universe would just do the exact same thing again, but—”

“Something similar, then.”

“Yeah.” Techno waves his fingers near his forehead. “You know, all the fun stuff.”

_ Hey! Wow, rude. We give you all this help and  _ that’s _ how you thank us? Shut up, chat, he has a headache! I mean, I wouldn’t say we’re always helpful. lmao true. _

“You gonna talk to him about it?” Phil asks, even though it’s more of an order than a question. Techno grimaces.

“Probably should, huh?”

He can hear Phil’s grin. “I mean, you’re the one with the most experience in shit like this.”

Techno groans. Phil chuckles, and the voices echo it, though with much less fondness. He sighs, leaning back to knock his head against Phil’s shoulder with slightly more force than necessary.

“Fine. I will. Eventually.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated 💛💛


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